Frey feels a simple ache, the beginnings of a crack in her heart. At her age, her foundation is so soft and unfinished, she feels every creaking wind and violent onslaught of rain. She bends with the force of her storms, suffers for every whim. Soon, that crack will expand just as her heart will expand, imbedding itself into her very essence—irrevocable unless Frey’s heart is entirely remade.
That cold rain washes over her as she stares at Hadrien, as she feels the full blackness of her blind eye. If he says his mother is nearby, she’ll feel her lack of normalcy like the tearing of a tornado over a well-rooted tree: pained and groaning, but not uprooted. And if she isn’t . . . There’s no speculation to be made, as Hadrien simply answers no. The filly sucks in a breath and looses a soft, child-like sigh.
“No,” she answers just as simply, tilting her head to better see Hadrien.
“Where did she go?”
What she doesn’t say is the flood of words desperate to spill from the dam of her teeth. How she doesn’t know where her mom is, but she knows she loves her. How she’s sure even if Hadrien doesn’t know who his mom is, Frey knows she must love him regardless. How she wishes so badly he had said yes, even if knowing someone with a mother made the freezing rain seep further into that twisted, cracked foundation.
Instead, Frey stares, head held with the kind of cold pride a child should never wear.
@hadrien
That cold rain washes over her as she stares at Hadrien, as she feels the full blackness of her blind eye. If he says his mother is nearby, she’ll feel her lack of normalcy like the tearing of a tornado over a well-rooted tree: pained and groaning, but not uprooted. And if she isn’t . . . There’s no speculation to be made, as Hadrien simply answers no. The filly sucks in a breath and looses a soft, child-like sigh.
“No,” she answers just as simply, tilting her head to better see Hadrien.
“Where did she go?”
What she doesn’t say is the flood of words desperate to spill from the dam of her teeth. How she doesn’t know where her mom is, but she knows she loves her. How she’s sure even if Hadrien doesn’t know who his mom is, Frey knows she must love him regardless. How she wishes so badly he had said yes, even if knowing someone with a mother made the freezing rain seep further into that twisted, cracked foundation.
Instead, Frey stares, head held with the kind of cold pride a child should never wear.
@hadrien